


The End of an Era

by LizaGreen



Series: From a Certain Point of View [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka is here briefly, And Gets One, Beru Whitesun is a gift, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa Needs a Hug, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Owen Lars Is Done With the Jedi's excuses, Owen Lars is a Good Uncle, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Still, Sy-Ro sets Obi-Wan straight, Tatooine Slave Culture, Yoda is a Troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaGreen/pseuds/LizaGreen
Summary: Anakin Naberrie is free to finally meet with his children, the old Grand Master of the Jedi Order and a ghost of the past. He is not ready for any of this. Beru and Owen stand by him, Luke is in need of a hug, as is Leia, while Yoda is as useful a troll as always.OrAnakin is petrified to meet his children, Yoda apologises, Obi-Wan is still a mess and deep in denial and Owen is done with the whole lot of them.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Beru Whitesun, Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Owen Lars & Anakin Skywalker, Owen Lars/Beru Whitesun, Sola Naberrie & Anakin Skywalker
Series: From a Certain Point of View [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1249802
Comments: 15
Kudos: 326





	The End of an Era

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone, this is the final instalment of the series! Apologies for the long delay to the end, the last two parts were giving me a lot of trouble as they originally intended to be one, but then got far too long, and I didn't know how in depth I wanted the end to be.
> 
> However, I have enjoyed this experience and I hope you have too! Please enjoy this final part!

There was something to be said about leaving an old life behind. Standing on the bridge of the Executor, a mere week since the deaths of both Vader and the Emperor, Anakin found himself pondering the idea of that very question. All he had ever known was war. His childhood had been a battle for survival, his life under the Order had been a struggle and even once he had been knighted, he spent his life on various, quite literal, battlegrounds. As Vader, he had been chained to the army and command over any and all conflicts Sidious decided to place the Empire within. 

And now, there were no more fights to be had. 

No doubt, Sy-Ro would have something to say about this new revelation. It had been brewing in their last conversation- the sudden realisation that he had no idea what a peaceful existence was. Give him three days in the Jedi Temple and he usually felt like jumping out of his skin. Varykino was mostly alright- at least there, there were children to run after. Ryoo’s little ones to worry about in the near future. Failing that, there were always the slave runs to participate in when he wasn’t sure what made him more nervous- the prospect of becoming a Great Uncle or having to face his own grown up children. 

“What’s wrong?” a soft voice asked from his elbow and he started, turning to look down into the warm brown eyes of Beru Lars. His step-sister gave a soft smile, despite seeming to have aged in the few years since they had last seen each other. The Tatooine sands did that to you- if the heat didn’t kill you, then you could be choked by dust or die a horrible death via some horrific disease hiding in the moisture. Had any of the vaporators leaked or developed even a small fault, the water was no longer safe to drink because you didn’t know what was brewing within it. Life expectancy on the Outer Rim was far shorter than elsewhere in the Galaxy. 

And the remnants of the Jedi Council thought it a viable place to bring up one of his children. Anakin refused the urge to strangle something at that thought, returning the smile. 

“Nothing. Just… thinking.” She let out a small laugh, her hand seeming so small and frail in his large prosthetics. It was an issue sometimes- there were moments when Anakin felt too large and clunky even within his own skin. Or at least, what was left of it. 

“Sometimes it helps to talk about what you’re feeling,” she murmured. Anakin smiled, the vague thought that Beru would make a good psychologist floating through his head. Or perhaps it was just an ex-slave’s perpetual knowledge that they had fought for all they had while others had just been given it. Owen was not so bad- he, too, had had a hard life in the dust and dirt of the desert. But he had been born free, whereas neither the Skywalker’s nor the Whitesun’s had. 

"It does," he agreed, glancing back towards where he knew Owen actually was. The man was leaning on a cane, still unused to the prosthetic leg. He had done his best to swallow back bile when Piett had commed him, informing him of what Palpatine's men had done to the farm and how close the couple had come to death. One frantic call around and the slow, calming realisation that Luke had somehow made his way onto the Death Star had reassured him Luke had been nowhere near the homestead when they had attacked. Hadn't stopped the brief panic that had overtaken him, and only Mile's calming presence had kept him grounded enough to get through their next mission. 

The flaring of a long buried bond had just compounded the urge to strangle something though. 

"But you won't talk about it with us," Beru finished with a grin. "So long as you talk to someone." Anakin smiled, closing one hand over her smaller one. 

"I think I can arrange to meet with Sy-Ro sometime soon," he noted lightly. "Sola informed me she dragged him off-planet with her." 

"I'm amazed you can get anything of this size on-planet," Owen grumbled, making his way laboriously up to them. He stared at the sight of the planet below with the leery suspicion of a man who had never been off-planet, or had done so very rarely. 

"Oh, Star Destroyer's don't go on-planet. We'll take a shuttle to down onto Alderaan, while the _Executer_ stays in orbit," Anakin explained with a grin. "Might be a bit of a bumpy ride." Owen gave him a heavy side-eye. 

"Way I hear it, it's always a 'bumpy ride' if you're driving." Anakin rolled his eyes. 

"You need to stop listening to Ahsoka's stories. We're not going to be shot at on the way down, Breha might kill anyone that tries herself." That had been a pleasant surprise in his inbox when he had finally got round to the commlink. The Moffs closest to Palpatine, ones like Tarkin, were now no more while those that were incompetent suddenly found themselves without a job. Anakin had taken Sola's suggestion, leaving temporary governors in charge of those planets and systems now without a leader, leaning heavily on a list of Senators she and Pooja had drawn up of the more trustworthy ones of the Old Senate that had minimal Alliance ties, or had been neutral throughout the Clone Wars. Most had been glad to return, even temporarily, to keep peace in the galaxy, while others waited to see how the new Empire would unfold. 

Internally, Anakin knew he would be screaming until someone else took the throne. 

Mile, if she had been here, would have been happily annoying one of the officers at the nav-computer, Anakin thought with amusement. She had taken an interest in plotting hyper-space routes and often came up with new calculations to make the journeys shorter, sometimes better than the computer itself. Anakin loved to see her grow bolder, arguing even with Piett about the capabilities of the Star Destroyer and how they ought to be taking advantage of the gravitational pull of some planets to conserve energy as they moved through congested systems of planets, so the hyper-drive would wear out slower. It was always entertaining to see grown officers reduced to near tears after being cut-down by a thirteen year old and her over-enthusiastic maths. Usually, Piett would send her for weapons training when she got too much, knowing that Veers would take revenge for his friend by having her clean out several blaster components. The one thing that they did not share a passion for: Mile loathed mechanics of any kind with a passion that Anakin could almost appreciate, if it wasn't so funny. 

"Kenobi is down there," Owen noted carefully. He sounded as pleased as Anakin felt. 

"I know," Anakin sighed. "I felt him on the Death Star." Beru gripped his hand and Owen squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

"The crazy old man's got no hold on you anymore," Owen said gruffly. It was as close to reassurance as one would get from a native of Tatootine. Anakin smiled gratefully. 

Before they could make their way to the family rooms, however, there was a new flare in the Force, two familiar presences and one old. Anakin blinked, startled. 

"He actually came," he said out loud, surprised. Owen's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Yoda," he explained hastily. "He's here, I felt him. I had thought he was dead but it seems Mile and Zanlin found him." Well, he had _known_ the old master was alive after that comm call, but he hadn't thought he would move off the miserable rock that was Dagobah, from what the co-ordinates told him. Seemed an odd place to settle down for the duration of the war. 

He turned on his heel and started to make his way to the hanger bay they would land in, slowing so Owen could keep up. Beru had offered her shoulder for support, but Owen took Anakin's offered hand. Every child of the desert knew to conserve strength and Beru had barely slept the whole time Luke was missing, just as concerned, if not more so because she had nothing to distract her, as Anakin had. She shook her head at them all the same, however, and looped her arm through Anakin's other so they made a united front when they finally arrived at the hanger bay. 

Owen was clearly not expecting the tiny green troll that tottered down the ramp. Mile and Zanlin descended after him, sharing amused looks. 

“ _This_ is your Jedi Master?” Owen asked sceptically. “The one who split up Luka and Leirishya?” 

“According to Bail,” Anakin agreed, glancing down at the wrinkled tiny form before him. He hadn’t thought Yoda could look older than he had before: clearly he was wrong. “Master Yoda,” he greeted the troll. “It has been a long time since I saw you in person.” Yoda nodded gravely. 

“Long time, yes,” Yoda agreed, voice thin and reedy compared to the usual strength. Anakin frowned. He had thought it was just the comm that made the old master sound so frail. _Time has been unkind to us all,_ he thought. “Hear Senator Naberrie to thank, I have.” 

“You can try,” Anakin said wryly. “You’ll find her unforgiving, however.” Yoda just nodded, eyeing him with something close to sadness. It radiated out in the Force and Anakin caught a glimpse of himself at nine years old, standing before him, all hope and fear, fresh from the desert. 

“Shall we have tea?” Beru suggested as the silence stretched. “I’m sure the children are in need of refreshment.” Mile smiled. 

“I would love some tea Aunt Beru!” she piped up. Beru wasn’t truly her Aunt, but she liked to call her that anyway. Beru smiled indulgently, enjoying it either way. Like Sy-Ro, she was unable to have children of her own and delighted in any relation to younglings, whether they be blood related or not. Anakin smiled thinly, offering to help Owen. Zanlin allowed the aged Jedi Master to hop up on his back as they made their way through the Star Destroyer slowly. 

Pooja was waiting in the family quarters, tea already set out before her. She smiled in greeting, face guarded at the sight of Yoda. Anakin helped Owen to a seat, accepting the cup Pooja offered him and settled onto the sofa, where Mile immediately jumped up and snuggled in next to him.

_I missed you,_ she whispered through the Force. _He wouldn’t stop talking about the glory of the Jedi of old._ Anakin pulled her close, blowing steam away from his cup. 

Yoda seemed intrigued by the domestic scene around him. 

“Misjudged you, we did,” Yoda said from his perch on Pooja’s fashionable pouffe. It almost swallowed him. “Misjudged you, _I_ did.” Anakin blinked. 

“Is this an apology?” he asked sardonically, sharing a glance with Owen and Beru, who looked almost as lost as he felt. “If it is, it’s about twenty years too late.” 

“Late, it may be,” Yoda agreed. “But necessary, for you and for me.” He paused, ears drooping. “Great wrong, we did you all those years ago. Terrible advice, I gave to you, during that time. Apologise, I must, for it all, as no one else is there, to do it as well.” 

“And which wrongs exactly are you apologising for?” Owen snapped. “Stealing a child from his mother? Leaving Shmi to die a terrible death? Sending a slave to save slavers? Separating the twins from their birth families?” Beru made the sign to ward off Mortea’s fiery anger, wrought down on the Masters who separated families. Anakin followed her example openly, following old advice from Sy-Ro to never feel ashamed of his roots. A thought that had never occurred to him before. 

Yoda watched in interest. 

“All,” the troll said. “All slights, I knew, and those I did not.” He was watching Anakin closely, curiosity large in the Force. _He knows he insulted my heritage without realising,_ Anakin realised. _And may only now realise just how much._

_“_ And Obi-Wan?” he asked. “I doubt I’ll get an apology from him.” Yoda’s ears drooped somehow further. 

“Grieves, Obi-Wan does, for a padawan who did not exist,” Yoda said quietly, defeated. “Apologise, he will not. From a certain point of view, Obi-Wan sees things. Not always the right point of view.” Anakin wondered how the man was getting on with his brother. He hid the smirk. 

“Worked that out on your own, did you?” Anakin asked derisively. “Or did the Force give you a helping hand?” 

“Lowest form of wit, sarcasm is,” Yoda said, eyeing Anakin’s shins as if considering smacking them with his stick. A rather lacking punishment considering Anakin no longer had organic legs with which to feel the sharp pain or gather bruises from the old Master’s wrath. 

“Your old Jedi Master has a very irritating form of speech,” Owen muttered, to which Anakin snorted. 

“You should have seen him in his prime. Don’t think he’s as spry anymore.” Yoda hopped up on his seat to crack Anakin over the head with the stick. 

“Oi!” Anakin yelped, rubbing the welt growing on his head. “I have enough scars thank you!” 

“Spry, indeed” the troll laughed, amused. “Can still punish you yet, youngling. Still a child, you are sometimes.” Anakin blinked at the relieved amusement in the Force. “Thought beyond it, you once were. Gladdened am I, to find I was wrong.” 

“And you couldn’t have done that _without_ violence?” he griped, amused despite himself. Yoda gave that laugh of his that told every youngling and Jedi that the troll was up to something. 

“Show point in violence, you have. Learned all lessons in it, it seems. Thought it a good way to teach you, I did.” 

“And you say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Anakin sniped. _And I’m starting to sound like Ahsoka._ The war was over, however, and if the Jedi Master decided to deal with it through juvenile pranks and laughter... well, Anakin couldn’t blame him. Mile was busy giggling beside him at the silly situation, fingers and head well out of the troll’s reach. Anakin was tempted to shuffle over just to prove she was not safe from old Jedi shenanigans, then decided that now was not the time. 

He had all the time in the world to play his own pranks with the survivors back on Varykino. 

Speaking of which... The doors slid open and Sho waltzed in, dressed in the shabby clothes she favoured on the slave runs. Yoda watched her with interest as she wandered over to Pooja, greeting her with just a little too much friendliness than was necessary. Anakin and Padme had been terrible at hiding their own relationship, and he was amused to find that Sho was somehow _worse_. Sola loved to hold that over her daughter. 

Anakin raised a daring eyebrow at the Jedi Master. Yoda smiled, ears picking up. 

“Good to see you, it is,” Yoda said to Sho. “Young love, always a pleasure to see.” Sho blushed blue and shot Anakin a dirty look. He returned it with an innocent glance. Mile smirked and poked her tongue out. 

“How are you all still so ridiculous?” Sho despaired, rolling her eyes at Pooja. “You’d think the war would stop it, but _nooo_ , it’s like being in the Clone Wars all over again.” 

“Except the bastard’s dead now,” Anakin pointed out, covering Mile’s ears as he did so. She pouted at him. 

“I’m sure we can find you another sycophant to hunt down. You don’t do so well sitting still.” 

“I think I’m happy just bonding with my own children for once,” Anakin said sourly. Deep down, he was terrified to meet them. Last time, Leia had hated his guts and Luke... Luke he only knew by the sound of his voice and the stories Owen and Beru told him. Sensing his distress even without the Force, Beru leaned over to squeeze his hand. 

“I think we could all do with a bit of peace,” she agreed quietly. 

“Mother sent us a comm message,” Pooja said, holding up her own comm. “We have official access in the morning, but Breha is happy to host us before this rotation is complete.” Anakin glanced at Mile who shrugged. 

“I’m happy to slap the old man out of denial in the morning or an hour, I don’t mind.” He mussed her hair up for that, but shook his head. 

“We’ll go tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to tax Master Yoda more than necessary,” he decided. It would give him some more time to prepare himself to meet his children properly for the first time in eighteen years. 

It was a daunting prospect. 

* * *

Leia stared at the Imperial Transport descending from the Star Destroyer that had been orbiting Alderaan since early yesterday morning. Inside would be some Jedi Master, Luke’s Aunt and Uncle, the rest of the Naberries and Lord Vader. Her birth father. She wasn’t sure which of them were more daunting. 

Beside her stood Luke, practically vibrating in excitement, and beside him the cool form of Sola Naberrie, who looked rather amused by her nephew’s antics. On her other side, her mother stood tall and proud, ready to greet their guests and beside her, Bail, who looked like he was about to be sick. Obi-Wan Kenobi had not had the spine to show his face, but Rex and Ahsoka were gathered on the other side of Sola, waiting patiently. The smuggler had declined to be part of the family reunion. 

The night before, she had caught Luke on a call with his Aunt, telling her all about the green planet, so full of _water_ , that it made her feel guilty at how privileged a life she had lived compared to him. Her own twin brother, who her father had never told her of. And yet, Luke didn’t seem to hold it against her, instead asking about anything and everything, what her favourite food was, her interests and dislikes. She had discovered that Luke’s favourite food was Shurra fruit, but they couldn’t get it very often on Tatooine. His favourite activity was taking the speeder down to a nearby canyon and going racing with his friends, before half of them had run away, some even to the Rebellion, others to the Imperial Academy. He had once wanted to go as well, but his father, Aunt and Uncle had eventually talked him out of it, so instead he dreamt of being a pilot and seeing other planets and stars. 

In return, she had shared that she also liked Shurra fruit, but her favourite food was the Alderaani meal, Jepson, a rice dish. She also shared a surprising interest in mechanics with him, but not the love for racing and high speed. She also enjoyed debating politics, even if she could get a little too heated on particular subjects. Luke had just smiled and asked which ones, and the conversation had ended in a long discussion of slavery, including the origins of the Skywalker name. 

She had been surprised at how much pride Luke held in being the first free-born Skywalker of their family branch. Then, she remembered all over again that her own Father, a man she kept trying but could no longer completely despise, had been born and raised a slave before the Jedi swept him away. And that little nugget of resentment towards Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and her adoptive Father grew a tiny bit more. 

The transport finally landed and Leia swallowed heavily. Luke took her hand gently, loose enough that she could drop it any time she liked. She gripped it tightly. 

The ramp hissed down and out stumbled a little troll. 

Leia blinked, wondering where the tall figure of Vader was. Following the troll was Mile, a Zabrak male, Senator Pooja Naberrie, a Pandoran woman who looked oddly familiar, a woman in a dusty blue dress decorated in brightly coloured beads and finally, two men. One was leaning heavily on the other, hand gripping a walking stick. Luke dragged her accidentally over to them in his enthusiasm, having forgotten to let go. 

“Uncle Owen!” he cried, finally dropping her hand and throwing both arms around the man. “I’ll never run away again, I swear!” She was startled to see he was crying. The man he had thrown his arms around awkwardly patted him on the back. 

“I’m alright, lad,” the man- presumably Owen Lars- said gruffly. “Just lost a leg is all. We’ll need to rebuild the farm, though.” Luke sniffled, drawing back. 

“I thought you were dead.” Owen snorted. 

“Not yet. We Lars’ aren’t quite Skywalkers, but we’re tough all the same.” He elbowed the man next to him in good humour, despite the serious, lined face the world saw. Vader raised an eyebrow, rubbing his side. 

Leia took her first good look at her birth Father’s face, startled by how familiar it was. It was clear he had once been handsome- Luke might one day be a reflection of him, barring height- but some great catastrophe had happened. The bottom half of his face were a mass of pale burn scars, flesh pulling oddly at his cheeks and causing a permanent scowl, even if the lips themselves seemed to quirk upwards in a smile. Blue eyes flecked with piercing yellow caught everything in a captivating glance, and dark blonde hair, slowly greying, fell to his shoulders and covered yet more scars on his head. The scars chased down his neck below the high collar of the tunic he wore, decorated in those foreign blue sigils of Amatakka. His gaze flicked constantly between her and Luke, taking them both in properly, drinking them in like a man dying of thirst. She shuddered at the intensity, taking an involuntary step back. 

Gentle hands caught her. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Luke’s Aunt asked carefully. “You look pale.” 

“I... yes, I am fine,” Leia said, tilting up her chin in defiance. She wouldn’t let this man see how much he had once scared her. She wasn’t sure who that was for anymore though. 

“You must be Leirishya,” Owen grumbled. She blinked, startled. 

“Leia,” she corrected. “Leia Organa.” She pretended not to see the flinch in her peripheral. Mile glanced over from where she had been talking with her mother, eyes narrowed and most like planning more violence. She was almost overcome by a childish desire to poke her tongue out at her. 

“Organa? Pah,” Owen spat, wrinkling his nose. “You weren’t named after the Goddess’ daughter for nothing.” 

“What?” Leia asked, almost at the same time as Bail, who had stepped forward nervously. Beru blinked, while Vader’s face went terrifyingly blank. Luke glanced between them all uncertainly. 

“Lukka and Leirishya, the children of Mortea, Goddess of Change and freed from bondage in their mother’s vengeance? Everyone in the slave circuits knows the story,” Luke said, sounding startled. “They’re supposed to be lucky names.” Bail’s mouth dropped open. 

“Freedom and Justice,” Vader said, in that oddly human voice of his, offset by the mechanical implant. “But you wouldn’t know that, Senator.” Bail flinched, drawing himself up. 

“No, I would not,” he said, sounding defeated. “It seems Padme did, however. I didn’t realise you had chosen the names.” 

“Technically Padme chose Luke,” Vader said almost conversationally, anger bubbling under the surface in what she was only just coming to realise was the Force. “Coincedentally, it also translates to Freedom on Naboo. I only chose Leia.” 

It felt as if she had just been kicked in the gut.

_Vader named me,_ she thought numbly, staring up at the man in question. _Anakin Skywalker named me, for the daughter of a goddess I did not even know existed until now. For Justice._ It was oddly fitting in a way. As if, somehow, he knew what his daughter would one day fight for. She wondered, just for a moment, what kind of a man he might have been, should he have grown up away from the influence of the Jedi and Sith. Silence stretched awkwardly as Bail took that in. It was Luke who broke it. 

“You kept your promise,” he said, turning towards Va- Anakin. He shifted shyly in place. Anakin wasted no time in pulling his son in close, and once again father and son held each other tight enough to never want to let go. She shuffled awkwardly in place, feeling oddly left out. Beru took her hand with a gentle smile. 

“It is wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, so sincerely it was almost painful for her. Leia gave her a wobbly smile. 

“It’s... good to meet you too,” she said, feeling awkward at being unable to share the sentiment. Once, she had wanted to know more about her birth family, before deciding that they had abandoned her long ago and she wanted nothing to do with them either. Now, it turned out none of this had been voluntary for anyone and that she had, in fact, been _wanted_. It was a strange feeling to have. Beru seemed to see the conflict in her eyes because she smiled gently. 

“It is alright, dear,” she said, squeezing Leia’s hand but no more. “You have a family here of your own. Our worry was that you were loved, and the Organa’s have done so.” She gave Leia a comforting smile and patted her cheek. “That was all Anakin wanted for you, to have what he couldn’t give at the time.” 

“Clearly,” she muttered, almost involuntarily. “If he had, he would have wanted us back.” There was another flinch from her peripheral vision she pretended not to see. Owen frowned at her. 

“Children of the desert know when to return for their own,” he said sternly. “You, as a Senator, ought to know better than we what would have happened should Anakin have claimed you.”

_Yes,_ she thought sourly, _I do. We would have been prime targets for the Emperor, his playthings in which to torture his pet dog without the problem of being seen to be torturing a daughter of his native planet._ It was logical, the right thing to have done, but the emotional part of her that she had ruthlessly squashed, that had wanted to know her birth parents, hated it anyway. _But,_ she thought, glancing over towards where Luke, oblivious to the world, had pulled away only enough to start asking a thousand questions and one to his father, to where Ahsoka was grinning like the cat who got the cream at one startled ex- Sith, _I won’t ruin this moment for him. Not today, not this week, maybe not ever._

* * *

Sy-Ro watched the family reunion from a distance, helping Sola to corral the others away from the reunion. Bail had gone graciously, taking Zanlin and the tiny form of Jedi Master Yoda with him, Breha following behind them. Captain Rex stood stiffly to one side at parade rest, smiling softly with Ahsoka. And yet, from this moment, there was one person missing. 

He turned away, wandering through the gardens of Aldera Palace until he found him. 

“I thought I would find you here,” he said to the aged form before him. “Queen Breha said that this place reminded her husband of the Hall of a Thousand Fountains.” 

“Technically,” Obi-Wan said from his position under a tree, “there was only a hundred and thirty fountains in the hall.” Sy-Ro raised an eyebrow, knowing that his brother would be able to feel his amusement in the Force. Quietly, the man sighed, drooping. “Anakin insisted on counting them all, when he first found the room. He was rather unimpressed by the misleading name.” 

“Imagine that, a slave boy from a desert planet fascinated by a room of water fountains,” he said, settling to rest beside him in the cool shade. Obi-Wan swallowed. 

“I don’t understand where it all went wrong. The Force will not reveal it to me,” he said, shoulders hunched. He had been in meditation for days, trying to discern the reason why those around him disagreed regarding Anakin and slavery. 

“Perhaps,” Sy-Ro started, leadingly, “You ought to start somewhere that _isn’t_ the Force.” Obi-Wan shot him a dark look. 

“The Force brings clarity, to those willing to see it,” he said sharply. “But no matter how much I open my mind...” 

“You are still closed to seeing what was right in front of you the whole time,” Sy-Ro finished. “You took a child from his mother, but never returned for her. You thought you freed a slave but brought him to a life of seclusion and strict rules. You listened to his nightmares, but dismissed them as nothing more, refusing to even check on the poor woman in case something _had_ happened. You did everything right, for the perfect Jedi Padawan, without realising that you held in your hands something far different.” Obi-Wan winced at each sentence, mouth opening and closing. “If you cannot accept these facts, then I doubt your Force will be able to show you anything of note.” 

“I...” Obi-Wan shook his head, unable to come to terms with it. 

“You know, I remember the day the Jedi came for you,” Sy-Ro continued, gazing up at the white walls of the Palace, almost blinding in the sunlight. “They said they could sense such a bright, light presence and you would live a wonderful, fulfilling life as a Jedi. Our father thought it wonderful, something to tell his work colleagues, that his youngest son would be a Jedi. Our mother begged them not to take you, that you were too young and still needed her.” Obi-Wan was silent, curiosity warring with disapproval in his eyes. “When our father gave permission, she was never the same again. Every night, for a month, she would come into our room, sit on your bed and cry when she thought we were all asleep. After, she’d just sit and stare, lost to the world for hours. It broke her, to let them take you and nothing we did would help.” 

“It was her duty,” Obi-Wan said quietly, gently, as if explaining to a child. “All Force-sensitive children were to be collected, and nurtured in the Temple. It was the only way to protect them from the Dark Side.” 

“Was it?” Sy-Ro asked. “I have met a Doctor, a Togrutan woman by the name of Villes, who is Force Sensitive. Your Council knew nothing of Anakin until you found him. Even Palpatine slipped under your radar for decades, unknown to the Temple. If you were trying to keep the world safe, you did a piss poor effort of it.” Obi-Wan drew up, insulted. 

“We were never infallible, no matter what people thought. We were people, we made mistakes.” 

“You were stagnant for a thousand years,” Sy-Ro pointed out. “Someone would have taken advantage eventually. Just because none of the corrupt Chancellors or Senators of old did, didn’t mean it would never happen at all. Once the Clones were in place, Palpatine hardly even needed the Force and certainly didn’t require Anakin to bring you down.” _A new apprentice was a perk,_ he thought, remembering that conversation from one of Anakin’s sessions. _It wasn’t a necessity, merely a seed that had been planted the day they met. One that the Jedi watered time and again, never realising the poison growing outside_ _of_ _their Temple, waiting to explode and drown them all._

_“_ Perhaps,” Obi-Wan murmured. 

“You should have been on the landing platform. It was an emotional reunion,” Sy-Ro commented after a while spent in silence. “Even Jobal shed a tear.” There was a running joke between them all that Jobal’s heart had died with Padme, but he supposed they all had their ways of coping. 

“I was not wanted,” Obi-Wan said primly. “I know that much.” Sy-Ro sighed and stood, brushing off his trousers. 

“A son will always yearn for a father,” he said quietly. “But you burnt that bridge on Mustafar. If you wish to build another, you will have to do so on your own.” 

With that, he left the old Jedi Master in the grass. 

* * *

The Holonet exploded with the news that the Emperor was dead, and a new Empress had been instated. No one was quite sure how Leia Organa superseded Emperor Palpatine’s chosen heir of Princess Mile, but since Lord Vader was dead and the girl’s own Mother had agreed she was too young to take the throne in such uncertain times, it was somehow agreed that the young ex-Senator would take the reins. That she had connections to make peace with the Rebels was a plus. 

The appearance of Lord Naberrie came as a shock to some of the Rebels. It was whispered that it seemed the old Hero with No Fear had not, in fact, been killed in the Jedi Purge but merely incapacitated and returned to his family by marriage. How, exactly, that had come about was revealed in what was called the galaxy’s ‘Most romantic tragedy’. Flowers were laid in excess at Queen Amidala’s tomb, condolences poured out to Lord Naberrie and their son (another additional surprise) and soon, Palpatine was forgotten as Naboo’s most influential figure. 

However, the most shocking change was yet to come. The Hutts and other old slave empires crumbled within days of the new Empress’ coronation. Runaway slaves led revolts against the last small holdouts of their power and soon, the Hutt slave Empire was engulfed in flame and violence. Empress Leia offered aid in the form of medical supplies and food for those innocents caught up in the violence, but otherwise kept out of the conflict, focusing instead on the set-up of a new system within the Empire. The Senate was reinstated, with its members to be decided by democratic vote rather than appointed by potentially corrupt officials. It was agreed that it was a not a perfect system- there was always the potential for another crackpot to end up in power- but the title of Empress or Emperor was kept, one step above the Chancellor. Empress Leia laid out new rules for both the Chancellery and her own post: The Emperor could not propose new legislation, but had to sign off on it, while the Chancellor could, under no circumstances, stay in office longer than two terms. Palpatine had kept office because of war, some pointed out, but were rebuffed by Lord Naberrie of all people, who pointed out that Palpatine had orchestrated the whole sorry affair. 

And with that, the dissenters fell silent in the public outcry that followed _that_ statement. 

On Varykino, the last vestiges of an old order welcomed two old Masters, gave them a stern talking to about how the new Jedi Order would be run, much to one’s consternation, and showed them what they had built. Master Yoda passed in peace, surrounded by younglings of his era, and some new ones, and his clothes were buried in a small modest grave in the gardens beloved so much of their owner. Master Obi-Wan refused the position of Grand Master, stating that the Jedi Order of old was no more. 

And, in the gardens of Varykino ten years into the reign of Empress Leia, an old scarred friend and son sat with him as he breathed his last, with his son and small grandchildren. 

“Goodbye, old friend,” Lord Naberrie murmured to the sunset, laying a garland of flowers down, consisting of bluebells, butterfly weed, pink carnations, geraniums and dark crimson roses. 


End file.
